fateandfortune | Just a job. [For Caine Wise]

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character: caine (skyjacking)

Just a job. [For Caine Wise]

She couldn't catch a break. That was the thought running through Rogue's mind as she waited in the rain at the meeting point, across the street from a random restaurant in a not quite seedy but not rich part of the city she'd dropped into and been trying to make a life in before things had gone south. She'd been on the planet for all of two months before she'd somehow managed to catch the eye of the wrong person. The type of person to run a genetic scan and take a keen interest in the anomalies found - an Earth human, a tersie, but different. Unique.

Rare. That had been the word the dealer had used when he'd been trying to restrain and drug her. She'd fetch a pretty penny on the black market, where certain noble houses went to find additions to their collections.

Rogue hadn't meant to kill him, but she almost had. The bastard hadn't wanted to let go, so she'd turned on her power and held on until she'd been able to pry his fingers away. It had been long enough to leave him in a coma, and if she was lucky he wouldn't wake up until she was on the other side of the universe.

Absorbing him had given her one hell of a headache, but it had also given her enough information to follow the channels to hire someone to help her. Rogue wasn't a helpless little girl anymore, but she was out of her element when it came to space and navigating beyond the planets she knew, so a bodyguard to get her from point A to point B was necessary. It had taken a lot of greased palms, but she'd finally gotten a message into the right hands and now here she was. Waiting. Hoping this would work and she could just find somewhere to live her life and not have people constantly trying to put her in a cell or a lab.

Was that really so much to ask?

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Sandwiched between jabbering Pydyrians and a family of ratlike Jenets wasn't exactly the best place to be, but Caine ground his teeth and endured it, only showing his lack of patience once, when one of the Pydyrians flailed a long spindly arm and nearly smacked him in the nose. The tall ungainly creature chittered at him and Caine responded with a flat, unfriendly stare and a low growled snarl, lip lifting and exposing the gleam of long canines. The Pydrian chittered more rapidly and crowded against its compatriot, and the line advanced without further incident.

He fully expected them to be stopped at ship security, but surprisingly they were waved through and free to board find their assigned berth. Space was limited; he'd served on cruisers with more room. Their section sported a small porthole, at least. Something to perhaps break the monotony of a two-day cruise. Beds bunked, Caine stepped aside to let his client in, saying, "Top or bottom, take your pick."

If she hadn't spent almost half of her life around mutants of all shapes, colors, and sizes, Rogue probably would have been looking at the variety of aliens with idiotic awe and fear, even after her time among them. Instead, she was proud to say that she'd adapted quite well to having to deal with the alien species found in this part of the galaxy.

Stepping into the room, Rogue eyed the beds and seriously considered her options. The top bunk seemed a bit more open despite being close to the ceiling, but the bottom would offer her a quick escape if she had an episode, one that didn't involved falling five feet to the floor. Bottom it was, then. "Thank you for letting me choose," she told him as she set her bag down on the bed and finally slid back the hood of her jacket. "You didn't have to, so I really do appreciate it."

"You're welcome." It was more of a grunt than words, as Caine was busy checking the place for spyware, hidden grenades, any other espionage equipment that might be inconvenient later. He didn't think there'd be anything to find, but the minute he stopped looking... Well, that was usually how it went, right?

Security sweep over, all mental boxes checked off his list, he finally chuffed a short breath and allowed some of the tension in his shoulders to ease. He didn't bother divesting his coat--they'd no doubt be moving about above decks in a bit and he didn't particularly plan on advertising the hardware strapped here and there.

Now that they were safely on board and had some time, he paused long enough to look directly at his client. "So," he started in a firm tone, one that hinted he wasn't planning to put up with any bullshit, "anything I should know beforehand?" Anyone looking for or chasing her, any issues he'd have to deal with along the way, any general weirdness other than a simple hop between planets.

Because it was never that damned easy. Never.

Rogue hadn't even thought to check the room like he had, that sort of task so removed from what she'd had to deal with during her time with the X-Men and while fighting in the war. When there were mutants who could make themselves invisible or walk through walls, there wasn't much call for the sort of equipment used in espionage. And in the end, the government had been more interested in killing mutants than spying on them.

The tone was one she recognized - it reminded her a lot of Logan, actually. No-nonsense, straight to the point, and expecting answers. It was good she'd already planned on giving them to him.

"I'm running from a man named Geere," she answered without any preamble. "My genetic code is different enough to apparently be of value to the crazy entitleds in the area, so his plan was to sell me to the highest bidder. I didn't much like that idea, so here we are." If he wanted details, he'd have to ask for them specifically, but in the meantime she watched him carefully, looking for anything that might help her understand the man in front of her and what he thought of all this.

It was actually not so surprising. The Entitled played the genetics game like no other, and anyone, other than Splices, sporting odd or unusual genetics were fair game, in the view of the aristocracy. The name wasn't familiar, but the type was. Caine had run afoul of a few before. Brokers, they liked to think of themselves. Selling commodities for the highest price. Vermin, in his opinion.

He leaned against the bulkhead and crossed his arms thoughtfully. "You're not a Splice," he observed. "So you must carry some sort of natural mutation if you were targeted." A bit of curiosity leaked through his stoic expression. "Is it a visible problem?" He'd rather know now sooner than later. She bore no outward signs of such, at least nothing overt. He wasn't invasive enough to demand she tell him exactly, but he did need to know if it was something he was going to have to deal with.

Seeing the hesitation flitting over her face, Caine added, somewhat reluctantly, "...you can trust me. I'm paid to get you to Espirion alive, and that's what I'll do." He respected that she didn't, but he had to make the offer. "I don't recognize the name, but I know the type. I don't think we were followed aboard, but there's no way to be absolutely sure. But if I'm going to protect you, I need to know as much as you'll tell me."

That hint of curiosity in his expression was actually kind of nice to see, in an odd way. Not because she wanted the excuse to tell him her whole life story, but because it made him a bit more personable, someone she felt like she might be able to trust. It also helped her accept his assurances when they were offered.

"It's not a physical mutation, it's an ability that I can mostly control," she explained cautiously. "He didn't tell anyone else about me, I know that for a fact. He was worried that if he did, someone else would get to me first. There weren't any buyers lined up yet, either, because he wanted to have something to show them to get the price up higher."

She took a deep breath and looked away from him uncomfortably, wrapping her arms around herself for what little comfort the action might provide. "My mutation manifests itself in my skin," she divulged, because why not just jump into the deep end to start with. "If I get scared or upset, anything really emotional... You shouldn't touch my skin."

That was somewhat different. In a universe where genetics were the playtoys of the upper-class, something new and unique tended to be coveted above all else. Nevertheless, it was relieving to know that this shitbag hadn't had time to alert anyone else on the market; Caine felt the customary target riding forever between his shoulder blades shrink, just a little.

"...that's something, anyway," he muttered quietly. Her admission sparked a little bit more of curiosity's fire, prompting him to ask, "Will gloves help?" He tended to wear them anyway, for better grip, as well as to conceal the longer-than-normal "claws" on the ends of his fingers. "If you get scared...do you change color, or something?"

Less than polite, but damnit. He needed to know these things. If he wasn't able to get a grip on her when the situation required, this job was going to jump about six levels of difficulty.

It didn't matter that he wasn't polite, she understood why he was asking and knew she was being stupid for not just telling him outright. And it wasn't fair to involve him in this unless he had all the cards laid out, even if she was paying him. They were going to spend close to a week in close quarters, he deserved to know what he was dealing with. What she was capable of.

"I wish I just changed color," she commented in an almost despondent tone. "I can control my ability for the most part, like I said, but I didn't used to be able to. For a decade, I had to keep myself covered all the time, to make sure I didn't hurt anyone. Because when people touch my skin with theirs, I absorb their life force into myself, even to the point of death."

It came out so easily, yet there was a panic rising in her chest. "It's mostly just a defensive measure now, after I started being able to control it a few months back. It's not always stable though, so I do have gloves with me, and I'll wear them all the time if you'd prefer." She turned her attention back to him fully as she continued, straightening her spine as standing as tall and brave as she could. "Or you can leave now, while there's still time for you to get off the ship, and I'll get to Espirion by myself. You can even keep the payment for your discretion."

In response, Caine lifted his hands and wiggled his fingers in their leather casings. "I meant, for me. I tend to wear them pretty regularly." No identifying marks left to excite overly-nosy authorities, which sometimes came in handy--no pun intended, he thought with a wry snort.

As for the rest... "As long as you follow my lead, don't pick any fights, and keep a low profile, we shouldn't have a problem." Caine recrossed his arms again. "I don't make a habit of backing out on a job. Doesn't do much for the resume."

Helluva mutation to be saddled with, to be sure, but she'd said she could keep it under control, and as long as they were in agreement on these few things, he had no reason not to make good on his word. He supposed it was a "pack" thing--a bit on the low side, his loyalty could be bought, as such, but shit, a lone lycantant had to make a living somehow, right?

Oh. For him. It hadn't even occurred to her, everyone had always expected her to be the one to take all the precautions, and it had only ever been Remy who'd made the effort to offer her a reprieve from her fabric prison. Caine couldn't possibly know how much it meant to her now that he wasn't insisting she wear her gloves and stay covered at all times, and there was no way she'd be able to properly explain it to him.

Still. "Thank you, on all counts," she said, visibly relaxing as she let her hands fall to her sides. "I don't plan on making things difficult for you. All I want is to get someplace where I can live my life in peace, and I'll do whatever's necessary for that to happen."

She took a deep breath and moved to sit on the edge of the lower bed, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. "I should probably also mention that I don't sleep well. Nightmares. Usually it's not that bad, but sometimes... Well, I'm sorry in advance if I disturb you."

[ ...and this is the first time I've been able to sit down to a keyboard all week, omg. but i have the weekend off, YAY, and the nasty weather should help alleviate some outside chores, so hopefully i'll be able to tag some the next few days! also, feel free to toss in some 'bad guys', 'adventures', whatever idek :> ]

Try as he might, Caine couldn't entirely squealch the twinge of sympathy her admission piqued. He understood the mindset, probably more than most. He knew exactly how it was to simply want to be left alone, and how precious--and rare--achieving such a state actually was. Thus his responding nod wasn't as quite as cool as his previous replies had been.

"...you're welcome." He stepped over and tossed his small duffel on the top bunk. "Don't worry about disturbing me. I don't sleep all that well, either." He never had, really. Minute vibrations in the floor then told him the ship was cycling up and preparing to pull out of the harbor.

"You want to head up and watch the launch? Beats sitting here staring at the walls, anyway." They'd have enough time to do that in the following days.

[I'm sorry life has kept you so crazy busy, but hopefully you'll get some nice relaxing time this weekend! And will do. :D ]

Well, that was one thing to be relieved about. Back when she'd been a student at the mansion, they'd ended up having to give her a single room before she'd even graduated because she kept waking up the other girls she'd shared with - and they'd all been scared of her after the incident with Logan, of course. Knowing that she wouldn't be the sole cause of his losing sleep was actually kind of comforting, in a weird way.

"Yeah, okay, let's do it," she answered with a nod and a smile, standing and smoothing her hands down her coat. He was right, it would be better than just sitting around, they'd have a few days of staring at the wall and each other, so might as well take advantage of the opportunity.

[ gah, it never goes how i want it to, damnit! but, am here this evening, thankfully! ]

Caine led the way, heading back to the upper deck. He cut through the maze of passengers with relative ease; being a head taller than most did help. Gave him a comfortable vantage point, anyway. The viewing ports were nicely large on this deck of the ship, retrofitted as it was for relative passenger comfort. He took station at one just as the horn sounded, signalling the ship was ready to move away from its dock and off into space.

The lights of the station below them twinkled merrily, as if wishing them good voyage, and Caine couldn't suppress a half-grin. He'd always loved to travel through space; he'd seen some strange places during his stint with the Legion. The military did have a bit better ships, though; the acceleration in this beast was anything but subtle, as the pilot braked a bit too roughly and sent a nice jolt shimmying through the entire ship.

The lycantant shook his head with a sardonic snort, refraining only barely from rolling his eyes. "Ham handed pilot, that one," he muttered.

[Okay, work finally stopped eating me alive after a conference across country with 12-hour days. I should be able to tag regularly again, if you're still interested in this thing.]

It was nice to have someone to follow through the crowd, rather than having to fight through everyone on her own steam. This made things a little easier, and certainly faster, and they view they were rewarded with was pretty great. Rogue had always loved flying, especially in the Blackbird back in the day, but this was an entirely new experience that she was actually really looking forward to, despite the circumstances.

Her eyes widened a bit at the jolt that resulted in the rough handling and shot Caine a questioning look with a raised eyebrow. "You're sure this thing's safe?" she asked, a hint of amusement in her tone. She knew that they wouldn't be there if it wasn't - the job was to get her to her destination safely, after all.

[ welcome back! for both of us, apparently. :D i'm always up for picking threads back up, and will backtag into oblivion, no worries! ]

He shrugged a shoulder, gazing absently out of the window port. "More than likely." A small snort. "They'd never be able to afford the insurance if it weren't." But being a third and lower class vessel, the merchant companies tended to hire any pilots who'd work for the pittance offered, and he said as much as the ship continued to lumber out away from the docking bay.

A gaggle of other passengers were beginning to fill the upper deck, and Caine's attention turned from the view to the crowd, automatically scanning for possible threats. Habit, that one. His crossed arms and nonchalant slounge against the bulkhead may have suggested casual indifference, but the fingers of his right hand tickled the butt of one pistol riding nicely against his ribcage, the left hand rested snugly against the hilt of a heavy dagger along the opposite side.

Yet he sensed little out of the ordinary, which did nothing to relax his guard however; the lycantant simply kept his gaze flicking from the crowd to the window port, as he'd always enjoyed the chill blackness of space. Quiet, solitary and familiar, that. He gave a nod towards the void beyond the plexiglass.

"We'll probably make the jump in fifteen minutes or so, as soon as the ship's flight path is given the all-clear." Caine gestured to a window port across the bay, where twinkled the spaceport in a bevy of white, green and red lights. Ships of all shapes and sizes crowded its docks, the planet looming just behind, providing a bright canvas of artistry.

"Not a bad view, leaving it all behind."

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Just a job. [For Caine Wise]

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adulting just...sucks, i swear. :(

it does, it really does!

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